


The Forever Friends

by LadyDeb



Series: Through the Ages [1]
Category: The Mummy, The Mummy Returns
Genre: F/M, Gen, Redemption, Reincarnation, ignores third Mummy movie, lost loves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 08:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDeb/pseuds/LadyDeb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three thousand years ago, a brutal murder ended a love story and shattered a friendship. Now, in 1933, three months after the events at Ahm Shere, the story is about to begin again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Between Two Worlds

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of ground to cover, both with the story and the author’s notes, so I’ll get started. First, this is the first story in a series centered around the first two Mummy movies, and before my muses took a vacation, there were six or seven stories in the series. Sooner or later, they’ll all get posted. Also, because there have been protests about this, I’ve found several meanings for the name ‘Ardath,’ including ‘field of flowers.’ That’s the one that worked best for this story. Next, I know I'm not the only one who noticed this continuity error in the timeline between the first movie and the second. There were seven years between Imhotep's risings, not nine, so I’ve made some adjustments. Also, Anck-su-namun will play a rather unusual role in this story. Finally, just a warning. I do ignore things from the movies when it doesn't make sense to me. So if you see something that contradicts the movie, it's because the original made no sense to me, no matter how hard I tried to reconcile it. I think most writers will agree that they have to write according to their own instincts. If you disagree with something I wrote because your instincts are different, no worries. I have no problem with people who disagree with me. Just with people who give me a hard time for seeing things as I do. As such, all flames will be handed over to Imhotep for proper disposal. Those things being said, on with the fic!

Disclaimer: Ardeth Bey, the extended Carnahan-O'Connell family, Imhotep and Anck-su-namun do not belong to me. They belong to Stephen Sommers and Alphaville. However, the Ferguson family (Celia, Jason, Miranda, et al), the Bey family, assorted Med-jai, and Khaldun do belong to me. I don't mind if you borrow them … just please return them intact, and give credit where credit is due.  
  


 

Prologue

 

 

Between Two Worlds  
  
  


 

She cast herself into the pit of scorpions when her traitorous body carried her away from her beloved. She lost control twice within the last hour ... but this time, she would not relinquish control.  This time, she would make sure that her treacherous reincarnation could harm no more people. Once more, Anck-su-namun found herself in the Underworld. Or was she? The former concubine looked around, confused. This was neither the Underworld nor the Afterworld. This was nothing she saw before.  
  
 _That, dear child, is because you have never been here_. Anck-su-namun whipped around to face the source of the voice. She could see nothing ... nothing except a young woman. A living woman, in the living world. She was small and slender with curly dark hair and dark eyes. She couldn't see her face ... but she seemed familiar to Anck-su-namun. The voice said again, _Do you recognize her, Anck-su-namun? Do you recognize the soul of the woman? The very first person whom you betrayed, even before Seti_?  
  
Anck-su-namun bit back a cry. She did, indeed. And in her mind, she could see her as she was when they were slaves in Thebes. The Egyptian girl from the very lowest of the slums, blessed or cursed with a striking beauty, and the shy young slave. Both destined to die for the men they loved. She could hear the other girl calling her 'Anck' in her mind, could hear her friend's laughter. And she whispered, 'Ardath?'  
  
 _Her name is no longer Ardath, but she does, indeed, carry the soul of your lost friend. You were not always as you are now, Anck-su-namun. You have achieved terrible deeds, but the fault was not yours alone. Nefertiri was given the chance to redeem herself, for turning away from those who needed her ... she was forgiven, and moved ahead. Rameses was given the chance to redeem himself, and again, he succeeded. The only two remaining are you and Imhotep_.  
  
Anck-su-namun lowered her eyes when he spoke of her love. And she _did_ love him. She stopped fearing the Underworld long ago ... feared only losing him. But Meela's instincts for self-preservation were much stronger than the former concubine’s love for her Imhotep. Anck-su-namun wondered briefly where Meela was, and decided she didn't care. Meela was no longer her concern. Ardath and Imhotep were … Imhotep, who was her world at one time, and Ardath, whom she loved as her own sister. Despite her name, Ardath was not Hebrew. She was found by the Hebrew slaves in a field of flowers, hence her name, when she was four years old. She couldn't remember the name she was given at birth, and her coloring was unusually fair. That was how she became a household slave ... how she and Anck-su-namun met.  
  
Anck-su-namun looked back at the source of the voice, asking, ' _What do you want of me_?' She tried to sound defiant and strong, anything but how terrified she was. But her voice came out as little more than a squeak. The source of the voice simply laughed. Anck-su-namun, above all, knew what she did. Knew about the lives she destroyed. Knew what she was, made no apologies or excuses. The Underworld didn't frighten her.  This talk of second chances, though ... that _did_ frighten her. She made no excuses for herself or what she did. But she feared making the same mistakes twice. She already did that, when she reawakened fully in Meela, at Karnak. But at the same time, she was exhilarated by the idea. She was shown Ardath, whom she wronged so terribly. Did that mean she would have a chance to make things right with her only true friend?  
  
 _Among others, young one. I cannot tell you how you may make amends, for you will not have a physical body. Each time we have attempted that, it has been a disaster. But you still have the ability to help your friend, who is called by another name now. And when the time is right, you will know what to do. Not many are given second chances, Anck-su-namun. Take care that you do not waste this chance, as you have wasted others_.  
  
The former concubine inclined her head, both in acceptance and in understanding, though she burned with questions. She learned her lesson ... patience truly was a virtue. And if she could make things right with Ardath, sweet Ardath, perhaps in time she could find a way to make things right with Imhotep as well. She was less concerned with Nefertiri, who was a spoiled brat. But Imhotep and Ardath were the two most important people in her life.  
  
 _One last question, if you please? Who ... are you_?  
  
The figure emerged from the shadows, and Anck-su-namun gasped. She saw this man before. She saw him at Ahm Shere. But he wasn't entirely a man at the time. The man bowed his dark head, answering, _'In life, I was called 'Mathayus.' But like you, I committed terrible evils, one of which led to my ruin. You knew me as the Scorpion King ... and this is part of my penance. The great goddess Ma'at saw something good remaining within me ... just as she saw it in you_.'  Anubis did not receive all of his soul! Or did he?

Anck-su-namun tried to work through that in her mind, until she realized it no longer mattered. He was given a second chance. Perhaps, like her, he just had to wait for it. She inclined her head to him once more, this time in respect. Mathayus smiled and said, _Until that time, Anck-su-namun, you will wait with me. You will watch this new incarnation of your friend ... you will learn about her. And perhaps, you will come to love her as well_.  
  
He paused, and the scene changed. It was modern day Cairo, and Anck-su-namun hissed at the man shown, _'Med-jai_!' A sound warned her and she looked back up at Mathayus. His dark eyes blazed with anger … with her. Not with the Med-jai. She started to protest, tell him that the Med-jai helped to defeat his troops, remind him of what all the Med-jai did ... until she remembered that this wasn't the Scorpion King whom her love faced.  
  
 _'You will need his aid, if you wish to protect your friend, Anck-su-namun_ ,' Mathayus warned, _'and remember ... it was not Ardeth Bey who performed the hom-dai on your love. It was not even his ancestor. The present day Med-jai are as much victims of that foolishness as Imhotep_.' Anck-su-namun began to shake her head, but Mathayus continued, _'Yes. Imagine, Anck-su-namun, spending your entire life, guarding a pile of sand because your ancestors acted out of grief and guilt, and damned you as well as themselves and another_.'   
  
Anck-su-namun shook her head almost desperately … or would have, if she had a corporeal body.  She didn't want to hear it. Mathayus sighed, _'Then you would make the same mistakes again and hold the son of your soul-sister accountable for the mistakes of the previous generation_.' Anck-su-namun looked at him in astonishment. Mathayus nodded slowly, never taking his eyes from her, adding, _'He, too, was Med-jai_.'  
  
 _'He refers to my love as the Creature_ ,' Anck-su-namun retorted defiantly, not wanting to believe her companion. She heard Mathayus in her head, _and that is what your love became. No longer human. If Ardeth Bey thought of him as human, he would lose sight of how easily Imhotep could kill him. If he calls him a man, he begins to believe he could be defeated as easily as a mortal man ... and you know that is not true_.  
  
She could not argue with that truth. Were the Med-jai chieftain to think of her love as a simple, ordinary man, he would die.  He would die, and his people would die with him.  It was disconcerting, seeing this from a different perspective. Disconcerting was actually an understatement.  In truth, Anck-su-namun felt the world as she knew it for the last three thousand years tilting underneath her. Not even her hatred of Seti or her hatred of the Med-jai were immune to the change in perspective, no matter how badly she wanted to hang onto both. She asked, _'Does he ... is he ...?_ '  
  
She wasn't sure what she was asking, but Mathayus did. He said gently, _'Yes, Anck-su-namun ... he does see what you are now learning. But still he does his duty, as he must, because the consequences of failure are too high_.'  Again, she didn't want to hear that. Didn't want to feel any sympathy for this grim-faced man clad entirely in black. But then she saw her forever friend, and her breath caught in her throat as she understood. If only for this moment, she withdrew her animosity from the Med-jai chieftain, for he had it within his power to save her forever friend.  
  
And that was all it took.

 

TBC 


	2. Pleased to Meet You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The O'Connells receive a visitor; meet a member of Ardeth's family; and trouble is brewing. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was originally posted on fanfiction.net back in 2002-2003, and while I've done some tweaking, it's more or less the same story. I've cleaned up the grammar and created a few bridges, after realizing certain passages made no sense.

Cairo Egypt, 1933  
  
  


 

He just kept getting further and further away, while she continued to lag behind with their luggage and her daughter. Celia ground her teeth, but focused her anger on staying upright and staying strong for her little girl. She swore to whoever was listening that if she and Miranda were captured by brigands and sold, her younger brother would be the first one whom she came back and haunted, and then whoever killed her.  
  
Drat that little fool, did he really think this was Chicago? Did he think she asked him to accompany her because she was the coward he assumed her to be? Celia knew the answer to that question, of course. Yes. Jason assumed that every place was like Chicago, and that his sister and niece would be as safe on the streets of Cairo as they would be in Chicago, so long as she stayed out of the way of **certain people**.  
  
As if hearing her very thoughts, her brother yelled back impatiently, “Hurry up, Cecelia!” Celia responded with a truly ugly glare, which turned into a vindictive smile when she saw him run straight into a tall, black-clad man. Did she dare hope this was the meeting party promised by Evelyn? She quickly ran through the description provided by her friend:  shoulder-length black hair, check; nicely trimmed beard, check; tattoos on cheeks and forehead, check; menacingly attractive, most assuredly a check.  
  
“It is unsafe for a woman and child to walk the streets of Cairo, unaccompanied,” the man stated. There was no room for compromise, no room for argument as he spoke. As he did, Celia found herself flanked by two men, one who looked determined and the other looked nervous. Her unexpected rescuer continued, slowly backing Jason up until he closed the gap between himself and the mother and daughter, “Or … perhaps that is why you walked ahead? Perhaps you wished for them to be taken?”  
  
“Laying it on thick, aren't you, old man?” the nervous looking man asked. The dark eyes flickered back to the man, who flushed and looked away. By now thoroughly terrified, Miranda buried her face against Celia's skirt, and the mother put her hand on the child's head. While she was enjoying her younger brother's obvious discomfort, she also knew that the man in black was scaring her little girl. The nervous looking man added, “Right, the brother is a rat bastard, but you're scaring the tyke, Ardeth.”  
  
Ardeth. What an … unexpected name. The man inclined his head as he approached and replied, “You have my apologies, Miss Ferguson, it was my intention to frighten your brother, not your child.”  Celia smiled, impressed with the manners displayed by this man, and the man named 'Ardeth' knelt in front of Miranda, saying softly, “I apologize to you as well, little one .... I did not mean to alarm you. Might I see your face?”  
  
Celia's daughter turned her face slowly to the stranger, and then the four year old asked, “Why do you have those things on your face?” Celia blushed hotly until she heard the man chuckling, and saw the very genuine amusement in his eyes. Miranda's fear overwhelmed with curiosity just that quickly, she turned to face the newcomer fully and asked, “Do they hurt?”  
  
“Not any longer, but they did hurt when I first received them. Would you like to touch them?” the man asked. Celia couldn't see her daughter's face, but she did feel Miranda nodding so hard, Celia thought her head would come off her shoulders. The man took Miranda's small hand, gently guiding it to one cheek and Miranda traced the tattoo with the tip of her finger. The man said softly, “My name is 'Ardeth,' little one, and what is yours?”  
  
“Jonathan, help the lady,” the blue-eyed man said. The man named 'Jonathan' started to protest, and the third man just glared at him. Jonathan immediately relieved Celia of a bag, and the man who just spoke took another bag, throwing it at Jason, adding, “Here, make yourself useful. If I didn't see it, I wouldn't believe it. Who are you and what have you done with Ardeth Bey?”  
  
Ardeth Bey looked up with an impish grin, his dark eyes twinkling with laughter, but he said only, “Paid no mind to him, little one. Would you like to ride on my shoulders, so you do not become separated from us?” Celia didn't have to see her daughter's face to know how Miranda would take that, but the little girl turned a hopeful look toward her anyhow, at the same time Ardeth Bey looked at the mother questioningly.  
  
“I think that would be just fine, but mind what Mr. Bey says, Miranda. Oh!” Celia gasped, finding another tattooed man in black at her side. He was much younger than Ardeth Bey, no more than twenty-five, around the same age as Jason. But there were no other similarities between her brother and this young man, who looked at her with large brown eyes and a solemn expression, to say nothing of curiosity.  
  
“This is my younger brother,” Ardeth Bey said, “he will be making sure there are no attacks from the rear.”  The man had a very particular way of speaking, and Celia wasn’t sure if it was because that was how he learned English or if he came from a particular station in life.    She wouldn’t go so far as to say that when he spoke, it was like a pronouncement from God, but he was quite definite about everything he said.  
He added something in Arabic, or what Celia thought was Arabic, and then swept forward, her daughter held firmly on his shoulders. Celia noticed that Ardeth still hadn't answered the question, and her companion muttered, “He always does that, changes the subject when I ask him a question. Oh, sorry. I'm Rick O'Connell, Evy's husband, and you're Celia Ferguson. You've met Ardeth, and this is Evy's brother, Jonathan.”  
  
“It's a pleasure to meet you, and thank you for coming to meet us. I'm terribly sorry, were you waiting long? I'm afraid ...” Celia began, and Rick O'Connell put his hand on her shoulder, effectively stopping her. The younger Bey called out in Arabic to his brother, who stopped and returned to them, his dark eyes intense. Celia found it hard to look away from those eyes (and she really wasn’t sure that she wanted to look away from them, either), but Rick's hand on her chin drew her gaze back to him.  
  
“Now you listen to me ... you were trying to hold onto a four year old girl, drag the luggage along, and make sure you didn't trip over your own skirt. You've got nothing to apologize for ... understood? Ardeth, you tell her,” the American said. Again, Celia's gaze drifted to Ardeth Bey, who was regarding her with those eyes of his. Then, she looked at her daughter, now perched happily atop his shoulders.

  
“He speaks the truth ... you have done nothing which requires an apology. Come. We have only a little further to go,” he replied. Celia nodded her understanding, blinking back tears. It was stupid, to be crying because two handsome men treated you with kindness. But she was tired. It was a long journey, marked with arguments with Jason, who never failed to throw the most hurtful things in her face. Her lungs burned from trying to keep up with Jason, carry the luggage and hold onto Miranda.  
  
Now O'Connell put his arm around her shoulders, saying softly, “While you're in Cairo, under my roof, you're family. Got it? Your arrival here means a lot to Evy. She's been a bit nervous ever since she found out about her pregnancy, and getting things ready for you has helped her a lot.”  Celia smiled weakly, but made no answer. The vacation which had such a terrible start (even before their arrival in Cairo) was now looking up … and she carefully ignored Evy’s brother’s muttered comments about Evy driving the rest of them insane with her preparations.  
  
Hopefully, Jason wouldn't take it into his head to do anything stupid. She wouldn't put money on it, especially with the way he was glaring at her. She was surprised when a soft voice behind her said, “He will not be permitted to harm you. My brother has given his word that no harm will come to you while in Egypt. My apologies, my lady, my name is Anatol. And believe me when I say, as the chieftain of our people, my brother does not make promises lightly.”  
  
Two things occurred to her. First, the young man spoke English like a native (as his brother did), and second, his given name. She looked at him curiously and asked, “Anatol? Isn't that a Greek name? Oh, never mind, I'm just being stupid.” Then something else occurred to her, and she asked, “You say your brother is the chieftain of your people? Well, that certainly explains it. He has a very regal bearing.”  O'Connell muttered something she didn't understand, but from the nasty look which Anatol shot him, she didn't think she wanted to understand.  
  
“You are not stupid to ask the question, lady. Yes, you are correct, Anatol is a Greek name. Our mother is Greek. It is a jest, amongst our people, that my mother, brother, and our sisters all have names beginning with 'A.' And my brother does have a regal bearing, does he not?” the young man asked, his eyes shining with pride as he looked at his older brother. It wasn't pride resulting from hero worship, Celia noticed … blind and adoring, but instead genuine pride and affection.  
  
“WHHHHHHHEEE!” Miranda cried with delight, and Celia looked ahead as Ardeth lifted her from his shoulders, flipping her in a neat mid-air somersault. Celia was just grateful her daughter hadn't yet eaten, or it might have gotten ugly. She didn't want to imagine the quiet dignity of Ardeth Bey compromised by the mess her daughter would have made. That would have been the capping of a truly awful day.  
  
 

TMTMTMTMTMTM 

 

 

Rick O'Connell decided three things while he, the two brothers, and Jonathan made their way to the stately manor where he lived with his wife and son while they were in Egypt. One, Ardeth Bey was holding out on him. Again. Two, Celia Ferguson had a bad habit of underestimating herself. Hell, he was surprised when he heard Anatol's name, and he didn't even know it was Greek! Three, he _really_ didn't like Jason Ferguson.  
  
He almost hoped the little jerk did something stupid, like, go to Hamunaptra. On the other hand, they already fought Imhotep twice, the last time just a few months earlier. Rick almost lost everything that meant anything to him, in that battle. And Ardeth didn't walk away unscathed, either. Rick was willing to bet money that the scars on his friend's chest from the mummy warrior were still healing. And that wasn't even taking into account the loss of his 'best and most clever friend,' Horus.  
  
Rick's dislike of the young American grew exponentially as Jason whined, “Well, how was I supposed to know Celia and 'Randa might be in danger if I left them alone? Celia didn't tell me!” Ardeth looked first at the youngster, and then glanced at Rick … and then, he rolled his eyes. Rick struggled against a laugh, because really … who would think that Ardeth Bey would ever do something so mundane, so very immature, as roll his eyes?  The other man’s dark eyes flickered next to his younger brother, walking behind them protectively.  
  
“I believe that is why your sister asked you to accompany her ... I highly doubt it was for the pleasure of your company,” Anatol answered tartly. Rick's battle against his laughter intensified. This was the first time he met Anatol, and Rick was quickly coming to like him. The chieftain looked at his brother again as he approached the O'Connell manor, and Anatol continued, “I speak the truth, brother, I've met more pleasant scorpions!”  
  
“Including the one we met just a few months ago, I’ll wager,” Jonathan murmured and Anatol nodded emphatically. He was among the Med-jai troops who fought the Anubis Warriors in the desert surrounding Ahm Shere, as Rick just learned. In a somewhat louder voice, Rick's brother-in-law continued, “I'm glad to see you heeded my baby sister's warnings, Miss Ferguson. Evy has been truly looking forward to your visit.”  
  
“And I've been looking forward to finally meeting her. I'm not sure if I ever told her this, but I really should have. Her support to me, over the last five years, has meant a lot. And I'm really looking forward to helping her with whatever project she's been working on. I've been fascinated with ancient Egypt for years,” Celia Ferguson answered a bit breathlessly. Rick shouldn't have been surprised by her gasps for breath … she was a small woman trying to keep up with someone who had _much_ longer legs.   
  
“Ardeth, slow up,” Rick called. Ardeth turned once more, took in Celia's attempts to keep up with them. The American woman protested, saying that she had a four year old daughter she chased after on a regular basis and she would be fine. Yeah, Rick knew about chasing after kids, but she wasn't fine. She dragged heavy luggage from the ship until they met up, as well as protecting her child. Now, she was trying to keep up with the man carrying her child on his shoulders, and unless Rick missed his guess, her legs were about to give out on her.  
  
He kept her from protesting further by saying, “You know, Ardeth and I could switch places … I could carry your daughter, and Ardeth could carry you.” As expected, her face turned bright red as she blushed to the very roots of her dark brown hair. She shook her head mutely, still looking embarrassed, and Rick was disconcerted to find himself on the receiving end of a disapproving look from Ardeth.  
  
The Med-jai chieftain said softly, “There is no need for you to be shamed, Miss Ferguson. But remember, even the greatest of warriors need aid from time to time.” It was Rick's turn to look at his friend with a disapproving glare. That, coming from Ardeth Bey, was downright funny. Mr. 'I won't ask for help unless it's the end of the world' himself. Rick grinned when Celia looked at Ardeth, calling him on that statement.  
  
“What of you, Mr. Bey, do you take your own advice?” she asked. There was no real challenge in her voice, merely curiosity. She continued, “I have known soldiers, Mr. Bey, and you have 'soldier' written all over you. Can you take your own advice, even when someone needs you? Can you take your own advice, and take care of yourself? Ask for help?” She cocked her head to one side, staring at him intently.  
  
“Not always. It is not always an easy thing, asking for help,” Ardeth acknowledged, and Celia nodded her own confirmation. Ardeth continued, “Perhaps we could remind each other of that.”  Now, Celia smiled, her eyes lighting up, and Rick realized it was the first time he saw her smile since their meeting. That part of him which once dazzled females (until he met Evy) felt a little put out that it was Ardeth who made her smile like that, but the feeling didn't last long. Celia nodded and Ardeth continued, “We are at the house. I will trust O'Connell to make sure neither of us reneges on our agreement.”  
  
“You bet I'll make sure ... you can't even give me a straight answer when I ask if you're all right!” Rick retorted. A familiar, steely expression appeared in Ardeth's eyes, and thoroughly enjoying his friend's discomfort, Rick continued, “This is the guy who, when he was injured in a bus ... accident ... a few months back answered the following way when I asked if he was all right, ' _This was my first bus ride_.' You bet I'll be making sure, Ardeth!”  
  
Celia giggled, but it was Miranda (now atop Ardeth’s shoulders once more) who exclaimed, “That's a silly thing to say!” Rick totally lost it at that point ... between Miranda's child-like honesty, Celia's giggles, and Ardeth's mock-indignant look, he started laughing. The Fergusons were here less than an hour, and already, they were turning his life upside down. That was fine, just as long as they didn't bring back Imhotep or the Scorpion King … or someone far, far worse.

 

  
TMTMTMTMTM

 

 

At twenty-five years of age, Anatol Bey was the youngest child of Suleiman and Altair, the last of three boys and two girls. Like his two brothers … indeed, like all young Med-jai warriors … he took an oath upon reaching manhood that he would watch Hamunaptra and make sure He Who Shall Not Be Named would not rise up and bring about the end of the world. But the change in Anatol, from fun-loving youngster to hardened warrior, began long before that day.  
  
He was only five years old when their father died.  He barely knew Suleiman Bey, so the loss didn't affect him as it did his older siblings.  However, the death of his oldest brother when he was nine was a different story. It began with the rape of his older sister, only days before Ardeth's seventeenth birthday, continued with the chase given by Ardeth and Andreas of the monster who attacked their sister, and ended with their eldest brother's death.  
  
Anatol memorized the features of the man who murdered his oldest brother and attacked his sister. Even at nine years of age, he swore that he would kill that man, if Ardeth did not. After more than fifteen years and countless battles, his older brother did just that, in the jungles of Ahm Shere when he sliced open Lock-nah's throat.  When he learned of the end of his family’s nightmare, Anatol felt a fierce joy and pride in his brother.  His only regret was that he didn't witness that event. He was there when his oldest brother died, he witnessed Andreas’ death, and so far as Anatol was concerned, he should have seen things come full circle.  
  
However, he was here now and at the request of their mother, he would take care of his remaining brother. Ever since that day, the youngest Bey became very protective of his older siblings. Losing Andreas devastated him. Yes, he was a warrior, and knew such things would take place. However, Lock-nah harmed his family repeatedly, and that was not easily forgiven. Unlike Ardeth, Anatol had no need to shield his heart. He had not the responsibility of the entire Med-jai people resting on his shoulders. He didn't even have the responsibility of a single tribe.  
  
No, Anatol's primary responsibility was to his remaining brother, his mother, and his sisters. Someone had to look after Ardeth, after all. He loved his brother, and Ardeth was always the greatest of his heroes. But as both Ardeth's brother and a Med-jai warrior, Anatol knew the chieftain often took priority over the man and the brother. This meant Ardeth often put aside his own needs for rest and food until everyone else was taken care of.  And ever since Ahm Shere, Anatol watched his brother growing quieter and more withdrawn.  
  
It was intolerable to the young man. And so was his solution, though their mother Altair was pleased with it. She no more liked seeing Ardeth turning into an old man at the age of thirty-three than Anatol did. Anatol told the commanders of the Med-jai to deal with their own problems for a while, his brother was taking a holiday. Immediately. Many older men did not appreciate having their business told to them by a young man of twenty-five, but Anatol was Ardeth's brother, and he was just as stubborn as the chieftain.  
  
His brother would have this holiday, and he would have it because Anatol wasn't above using bribery or blackmail, or any other kind of deceit to achieve his ends.  If necessary (and it would be), he would use a trick to get his brother away from his responsibility for a time. Why should the commanders be any different? Why indeed, his mother told him when she learned of the confrontation, why indeed! She was so proud of him.  
  
And it didn't even take trickery for his brother to leave for Cairo. Rather, the trickery came in keeping him there, until Evy O'Connell spoke of her friend, a young woman who would be arriving from the United States with her younger brother and daughter. Her friend, Celia Ferguson, went through a difficult time in the last five years. The father of her daughter tricked her into bed with a bogus wedding ceremony, in the name of a bet.  
  
Anatol wanted the name of a man who would treat a woman so shamefully, but Evy didn't know. Celia never told her ... she told her about the circumstances of her daughter's birth, and how she was rejected by former ‘friends’ because of the deceit. But that was it. Ardeth quietly observed that the young lady probably believed she was somehow at fault for not seeing through the man's deceit.   Evy agreed and asked their help. She received the impression that the younger brother, Jason, was difficult.  After meeting the man-child in question, Anatol could only laugh in disbelief.  Difficult? More like impossible! Why did she allow him to treat her like that? If Anatol or Ardeth ever treated either of their sisters like that … well, they would be worse for wear the following morning. Altair Bey taught her daughters to defend themselves from an early age. She, perhaps, saw a day when all of the men would be away, and it would be up to them to repel any invaders … perhaps even a battle such as Ahm Shere.  
  
Still, Celia's little girl, Miranda, made Ardeth laugh, just as their nephew and nieces did back home.  And Miranda's fearlessness reminded Anatol of his own sisters, who were encouraged by their mother, so there was more to Celia Ferguson than what he was seeing. The young Med-jai looked again at his older brother. There was a time when he thought his two brothers could do anything. Then he learned they were just human beings who lived, made mistakes, and died … just like everyone else. There was nothing supernatural about his brothers, unless you counted their stubbornness.

The young Med-jai stifled his laugh ... there were times when his older sister Acacia, only a year younger than Ardeth, swore that the stubbornness shared by all five children bordered on the supernatural. Then again, Ardeth often wryly observed that Acacia lived up to her name, 'thorny,' though never within her hearing. Med-jai chieftain or not, older brother or not, she would still leave him in a world of hurt, and Ardeth knew it.  
  
Maybe that was why he couldn't understand Celia Ferguson's reluctance to remind her brother than he was younger than she. Maybe he and Ardeth should take Celia to their village, she and her daughter both. As the small party entered the O'Connell house, Anatol reconsidered that. He saw the way the young women in the village looked at his brother. And he didn't think Celia could deal with those who decided they would be the perfect wife for their chieftain. It wouldn't matter if Celia was Anatol's guest ... she had access to Ardeth that they did not, and she was an outsider.  There was a very good reason both brothers were still unmarried.  
  
“EVY! Alex! We're home!” O'Connell boomed out. Ardeth turned to look at Anatol, and the younger Bey brother caught his breath at the sadness in the eyes of the other. And then he remembered. Andreas always greeted them like that, when he came back from a battle. Not with those words, no, but he would call out as loudly as his voice would allow. Anatol wondered if Ardeth thought a lot lately about Andreas. He probably would, after finally dealing with their brother's murderer once and for all.  
  
Anatol had no more time to think, for even as he carefully closed the door behind him, a small blond rocket catapulted toward them, connecting solidly with Ardeth's waist. His brother wobbled for a minute, then righted both himself and Miranda. Before Ardeth could say anything, Miranda asked, “Whozzat?” Alex O'Connell released Ardeth and stepped back, hearing the tiny voice way over his head. The younger Med-jai covered his mouth with his hand, seeing the look of pure astonishment that crossed the boy's face.  
  
“Why, that's my son, Alex, and you must be Miranda. Your mum has told me so much about you,” Evelyn O'Connell said, coming into the room behind her son. Ardeth lifted Miranda from her shoulders, once more somersaulting her in the air, before placing her carefully on the floor. Evelyn put her hand on her son's shoulder as she gave Ardeth a one-armed hug. Anatol watched in amusement as his brother awkwardly returned the embrace. He really had little experience with such affection, except among his sisters.  
  
Then again, Anatol reminded himself once more that Ardeth was chieftain at seventeen, and when Anatol was seventeen, he had far more opportunity to be a young boy. Oh, he was a warrior, but he was also still young and he knew himself to be not ugly. His brother, on the other hand, was totally blind about women's reaction to him. And what Anatol didn't hear for himself, his sister Acacia often told him. It was quite an education for the young warrior.  
  
A cough returned him to the manor, and Rick O'Connell said, “Jonathan, why don't you and I take these bags upstairs to the room? Celia, I hope you don't mind, we thought you and Miranda would like to share a room.” The young American woman nodded. Jonathan Carnahan started to protest, but a glare from his brother-in-law quickly silenced him.  
  
'I will help, too, O'Connell,' Ardeth said quietly. Gently removing himself from Evy's embrace, the chieftain switched to Arabic, adding, 'Watch over them, my brother.' Anatol nodded, and Ardeth picked up one of the bags, following O'Connell and Jonathan upstairs. With his free hand, Ardeth snagged Jason by the collar, practically dragging him after him. Anatol grinned impishly ... apparently, his brother liked him about as well as Anatol did. Not at all! 

 

TMTMTMTMTM

 

 

Anatol remained in the front room with the children, while Celia and Evy went into the kitchen for tea.  Evy decided she liked the younger brother of her friend.  He was quiet and courteous, but with a mischievous streak.  Evy had no trouble at all, imagining various pranks he would pull.  Never anything malicious, but funny little pranks to make people laugh.  So far as she was concerned, he was the perfect little brother for a serious young chieftain. Evy waved Celia to have a seat, and the young woman said, “You know, until I saw Mr. Bey this afternoon, I wasn't sure how anyone could be menacingly attractive.”  
  
Evy laughed, removing the plates from their cabinet. She gave the staff the day off, once the preparations were finished. Part of it was for Celia’s comfort … part of it was for her own.  She knew quite well that she made her menfolk barmy with her insistence on making things as perfect as possible for her American friend … and she was so blasted nervous about this meeting.  Of course, the awkwardness of their first meeting vanished when the men went upstairs.  Since the two women were left alone, they were free to be Evy and Celia, and the groundwork was already placed.  They were already friends … the hard work was done.  She replied, “Yes, well ... it's rather hard to explain Ardeth Bey. In some ways, he defies description. But, once he decides you're worthy of his loyalty, you cannot shake him. He's one of the strongest, bravest men I've ever known.”  
  
She sat down beside her friend, adding with a smile, “To say nothing of being one of the most beautiful!” Celia blushed and lowered her eyes. Evy grinned, continuing, “I wouldn't give Rick up for anything, but I know a beautiful man when I see one. And I don't mind telling you, he is very lonely.” Evy thought back to their meeting with the twelve Med-jai commanders. With a sigh, she remembered Ardeth holding Horus aloft and calling him his 'best and most clever friend,’ as well as the grief when his faithful companion was shot out of the sky.  
  
“As you said … he's a beautiful man. I'm sure he has his share of company,” Celia replied softly. Evy realized she was about to overstep some boundaries, and immediately backed off. She began assembling the food, and Celia continued, “So, tell me about what you're working on.  You mentioned a new project that you began shortly after returning from Ahm Shere.” Evy rolled her eyes, but began to explain about the cataloging. It was a classic Celia ploy, one she picked up through their letters. She always did that when she didn't want to talk about something.  
  
However, she just arrived and Evy wasn't about to make her only true female friend uncomfortable at this stage of things, though she longed to play matchmaker for her two friends. She hadn't yet received any indication that Ardeth was even interested in Celia. Then again, until a crisis of earth-ending proportions loomed, it was difficult to tell what Ardeth was thinking. Even after all these years, he still kept things to himself. That was part of the reason she liked Anatol … not only was he an open book in comparison to Ardeth, but it was clear he would take care of his older brother.  
  
“Tell me about Alex,” Celia said suddenly, as Evy paused for breath. She looked up, and Evy left her work to sit with her friend again. Five years ago, after Celia learned of that man's deceit, Evy tried to comfort her by telling her about Alex. Like Miranda, Alex was born out of wedlock, though under different circumstances. Shortly after Evy and Rick married and returned to England, she received word from a distant cousin.  Marietta's daughter 'got into trouble,' when she discovered that she was pregnant and her lover refused to marry her. And now, Eliza was dying. Marietta couldn't take care of her grandson and her daughter, could Evelyn help out? She could and she did. But only three days after eighteen month old Alex came to live with them, Eliza died and Marietta was killed when she ran into the path of an oncoming lorry.  
  
Thanks to Marietta’s forethought (and planning skills), it took little effort to adopt Alex. When they were children, and Evy was in England, she would tell Eliza bedtime stories about Alexander the Great and others. Obviously, Eliza was inspired to name her son after the conqueror. Evy said, finishing the story, “In any event, by the time Alex was three years old, we formally adopted him. His birth father never came for him. Apparently, he was married, and didn't need the fuss.  Well, that’s just his loss. Alex has been ours ever since.”   
  
Celia answered with a small smile, and Evy let the silence linger. She was glad Celia was here.  As she read the last several letters, the Englishwoman began to sense that her friend wanted to leave Chicago, but she had nowhere to go. She and Jason were the only members of their family left, which was part of the reason Celia put up with her younger brother. Evy could relate. She often was asked why she didn't throw her ne'er do well brother out.  
  
Jonathan was her family, just as Jason was Celia's, and you simply did not turn your back on family. No matter how much you wanted to. Celia could no more turn her back on Jason than Evy could turn away from her husband, son or brother … any more than Ardeth could turn his back on his people. He could put his duty aside for a time, like when he helped them rescue Alex … but he was the Med-jai chieftain, and he was not allowed to forget that. It saddened Evy. He was young, highly intelligent, devastatingly handsome and had a gentle soul under the sometimes-gruff exterior.  
  
That was, she supposed, the real reason she found herself wanting to match-make for him and Celia. They were both lonely … Ardeth needed someone to take care of him without him realizing it, and Celia needed someone who didn't care about what happened in Chicago. Well, Rick would tell her that it was none of her business, and he would be right. She said, turning her attention to something new, “You know, we don't have to get started today.”  
  
Celia looked at her questioningly, and Evy continued, “Listen. You're positively exhausted. We'll eat, then I want you to take a nap … no, don't worry about Miranda, I can take care of her. Rick told you that I'm pregnant … oh, it didn't register with you? I think the baby is a girl, and so I want some practice at having a daughter.”  Evy only found out a few days earlier that she was pregnant. She was still rattled to her very core by the news … ecstatic, but shocked. After the events of Ahm Shere ...  
  
“When's the baby due?” Celia asked, rising to her feet to hug Evy. As she released the young matron and stepped back, the American almost tripped on her long skirt, but righted herself on the edge of the table. Evy cringed. Celia would end up breaking her neck before too much longer, if she wasn't careful. The trouble was, Evy spelled out the dangers she might face in Cairo, and Celia being Celia, listened to her.  
  
Doubtless, that was why she was wearing a long skirt that reached the tips of her shoes. It was impractical for traveling, but Celia was torn between practicality and safety for her and her daughter. Daughter. Celia asked about her baby. She replied, “According to the doctor, I'm about twelve weeks along. Another six months. You know how it is.” Celia nodded ruefully, and Evy continued, choosing her words carefully, “How far did you get, after you left the ship, before you met up with my men?”  
  
Celia dropped her eyes and said, “Probably halfway there. There was ... a miscommunication ... between myself and Jason.”  Really.  A miscommunication.  Evy gritted her teeth. Her impression of Jason Ferguson was of a sullen, self-centered little boy.  According to Jonathan, he whined when Rick made him carry some of the bags upstairs. Evy didn't know what happened on the way to the house, but she did know her husband and her brother.  
  
Neither of them liked Jason Ferguson. Ardeth, as always, kept his peace, but Evy knew him well enough to know when he didn't like someone. She also knew him well enough to know when someone made a favorable impression on him. Further, Evy noticed him carrying Miranda on his shoulders. While Alex adored him … had, ever since Ardeth's rather dramatic entrance into their home a few months earlier, Ardeth never carried the boy on his shoulders. It was just strange to see Ardeth carrying a child he just met the way he carried Miranda.  
  
And Miranda thoroughly enjoyed herself. She was more than six feet off the ground, and six feet higher than she was used to being. Plus, Evy was sure that the little girl was accustomed to her surly uncle …. and while Ardeth could be grim and even harsh, she saw him behaving extraordinarily gently with someone. That a four year old moppet might be one of those someones surprised her not at all.  
  
Which brought her right back to Miranda's mother, who was now settling herself back into her chair. A weary sigh echoed out of her as she rested her forehead against her crossed wrists. Evy regarded her for several moments, and then went into the sitting room, where Anatol was watching over the children. Literally, in fact.  Miranda crawled up into his lap, and was now tracing the tattoos on his face, much to Anatol's amusement, while Alex told her about Ahm Shere and the mummies. Oh dear. She hoped the little girl wouldn't have nightmares.  
  
But, she had nothing to fear, as Alex was telling her about the golden pyramid, and about the gigantic diamond at the top, glossing over the … unpleasant … parts. Like her death and the world almost ending. She caught Anatol's eye, asking softly, “Is your brother and the others still upstairs? Celia's very tired. She really should be resting.” Footfall alerted her to the men coming down stairs … and Jason Ferguson looking _very_ disgruntled. Good. It was time he learned the world didn't revolve around him!  
  
“I can take her upstairs ... you sure she doesn't want to eat first, honey?” Rick asked softly. Evy took his hand and led him into the kitchen. Celia was now sound asleep, and Rick murmured, “Whoa, guess not. Okay. Ardeth, buddy, I need your help.” The chieftain joined them and Rick carefully eased Celia's chair back from the table, then just as carefully picked her up. He whispered, “Grab her skirt and be careful, that thing should be registered as a deadly weapon. She smacks you in the face with it, it'll knock you right over.”  
  
Ardeth did as he was asked, but glanced at Evy, rolling his eyes at the same time. This was so unlike the Ardeth Bey she knew, she almost started laughing ... until she remembered her sleeping friend. Ardeth said softly once Celia's skirt was safely out of the way, “It would be better if we carried her together, O'Connell. There would be less chance of Miss Ferguson sustaining serious injury if you lost your footing and fell if we were both carrying her.”  
  
Again, Evy looked at Ardeth in surprise. She was even more surprised when he caught her eye ... and winked. Rick simply grumbled, “Ha-ha, very funny. Take her boots, and let's go.”  He shifted Celia's sleeping body until he was supporting her shoulders, and Ardeth her legs. With all the moving around they did, it was a wonder the poor girl hadn't awakened. But she remained asleep as they carried her from the kitchen and up the stairs to her room. Evy followed along, just to make sure she was settled all right ... and to observe Ardeth.  
  
Rick wouldn't be happy about her playing matchmaker, she knew, but she loved Ardeth just as much as she loved Jonathan. She wanted to see him happy. She wanted his best and most clever friend to be a human being, rather than a bird. But before any of that could happen, before she could even start figuring out if her two friends were right for each other, she had to see if they were interested. Unfortunately, where Ardeth Bey was concerned, that was never easy. 

 

TMTMTMTMTMTM 

 

Jason Ferguson was having a _very_ bad day. It didn't start out that way. He planned an expedition to Hamunaptra, just as soon as he unloaded his sister and niece with her friends. Then he ran headlong into a very tall, very annoyed-looking man with very strange tattoos on his face. At barely five eight, Jason was already touchy about his height, and when he encountered tall men, like Ardeth Bey or Rick O'Connell, he got even touchier.  
  
Ardeth Bey wasn't just tall. He was powerful.  And dangerous.  Jason recognized him somewhere deep in his soul as a man you just didn't anger. This man's rage would be white hot and ice cold, and if Jason stopped and thought about the contradiction in that statement ...  But, of course, he didn't. That wasn't his way. He wasn't the thinker in the family, or the dreamer. He wasn't even the doer. And that was the problem.  
  
His problems with both Bey and O'Connell intensified when the men decided he was a bad brother for not helping his sister with the luggage and her daughter. Hey, he hadn't thrown her out of his house after she had gotten into trouble, like his buddies thought he should have! Jason ignored the little voice in the back of his head, telling him that was hardly the mark of a good brother. It wasn't her fault Carstairs turned out to be the tricky bastard he was.  
  
Lord knew, he wanted to blame her for that. She was a modern woman, focused solely on her career as an archivist at the Chicago Museum at the time. Their parents disowned Celia when she was eighteen and she refused to marry one of their father's business partners. And up until the time she met Carstairs, she swore she would never marry. By this time, Jason was living with her in the house they inherited from their grandparents.  
  
And if the truth were known, he blamed himself for not seeing Carstairs for what he was. It really was more his fault. Celia, for all her book knowledge and even her common sense, knew very little of men. She was an innocent, and fell right into Carstairs' trap. When Jason thought about the bet leading to his sister's problems, he wanted to be sick. For the making of that bet alone, he would kill Carstairs again.  
  
Yes, he was partially to blame. His sister gave him shelter after their parents kicked him out of the house when he was sixteen, and then picked up the pieces when he was disowned as well. She loved him and took care of him, listened to him. But she was thirty years old and she should be married. Unfortunately, no one wanted used goods, and Jason was finding his sister an albatross. He couldn't marry until she was out of the way. Unless, of course, he was rich, and then he wouldn't have to worry about it.  
  
He could set up Celia in the style she deserved and allow her to raise her daughter in peace; while he and his wife lived separately. Or maybe give Celia an apartment in the house. Or something. Jason, of all people, knew what he owed his sister. And he hated her for it. He hated her for never throwing it back in his face whenever he started taunting her about the past. He hated her for the way her face would pale and her chin would lift, before she left the room. Once, just for once, he wished she would fight back.  
  
But Jason knew his sister, and more to the point, he knew how her rage frightened her. It frightened him, too; which was why he always backed off before he pushed too far.  Like today, once they disembarked, when he ran off and made her carry the luggage. The trouble was, he couldn't explain why he enjoyed pushing his sister so much. She and Miranda were all he had left in the world. And though he was finding it difficult to marry with his sister around, with her disgrace, he didn't want to lose Celia.  
  
Why would she never fight back with him? She hadn't hesitated to call Bey on his inability to ask for help ... so how was he different? Well, aside from the fact that he was a helluva lot bigger than Jason. But what was holding her back from tearing into him, the way he sometimes deserved? An image flashed through his mind ... himself at five years of age, trembling in his sister's arms as their father screamed and ranted, breaking things. He heard Celia comforting him, but he also heard the fear in his then-ten year old sister's voice. Jason's mouth went dry. Celia was afraid to fight back … was afraid to lose her temper.  
  
Not because she was afraid it wasn't befitting a lady, as their mother always said. Celia wasn't a lady, not since she was eighteen years old in the eyes of many. Even before her disgrace at the hands of Leslie Carstairs, she wasn't considered a lady. No, she was afraid that she would go too far and hurt someone, as their father often had.  Never a member of the family … usually a servant girl, who didn't move fast enough for their father’s liking.  
  
She was a few inches shorter than Jason, but he knew she could still hurt him, if she became angry enough. And he was still her little brother … he always would be.  But Bey … he was almost a foot taller than she was.  The strange man was tall and strong, and not easily harmed by a small, slight woman. Could it be that despite his fearsome appearance, his older sister actually felt safe with the strange-looking man?  
  
Jason overheard the conversation between Evy O'Connell and the younger Bey brother while he was on his way back downstairs, heard the rage in the other young man's voice at the idea of someone doing what Carstairs did. Honor meant something to this man, then … it wasn’t just a word.  It seemed that the same was true of his older brother. Jason winced, remembering the look he got from the older brother. Not just a look, but a Look.  
  
Jason was actually thinking of making a break for Hamunaptra, now that he knew Evy O'Connell could look after his sister and Miranda. It was the Englishwoman who instructed Celia on how to dress and keep herself safe in Cairo. That was actually the reason for one of their arguments. Celia asked Jason to stay close to her and Miranda. Jason got angry, because he assumed she didn't trust him … when the truth was, she would need him.  
  
Even after she explained that she needed him to stay close, for safety reasons, he sulked and steamed, because even after everything he did for her, she still didn't trust him. The enormity of his stupidity didn't hit home until he heard O'Connell and Bey talking, about women who were left alone in Cairo and never heard from again. He heard the anger in Bey's voice and realized with a sickening thud as his heart hit his toes, that it could have easily happened to his sister and niece, if Carnahan, O'Connell, and Bey hadn't come for them.  
  
He almost got his sister and niece killed this afternoon, because of his pride … because of his stupid, selfish pride. His sister asked him along, because he could protect her, the way she protected him from their father's rages; and he almost got her killed. It didn't do much for Jason's temperament, as he began looking for liquor of any kind to ease the pain. His sister was asleep, carried to her room by O'Connell and Bey. Miranda was happily playing with Alex O'Connell and Anatol Bey. They were both safe ... no thanks to him.  
  
The self-pity rose up in his throat, almost choking him. For all his words, he knew that he did nothing for her. The house where they lived was just as much hers as it was his; their grandparents left it to them both. The only thing he really did was hold her when she made the discovery that she wasn't married to Carstairs. He wasn't even in the house the night Miranda was born. He was out getting drunk, because his sister's disgrace was his own. Their mother unexpectedly developed a protective streak where her only daughter was concerned, and told him what a failure he was … told him that he should have protected his sister better.  
  
She was right, of course … but the twenty year old Jason couldn't handle it. After picking a fight with his sister, eight months pregnant with Miranda, he slammed out of the house and found one of the few places not shut down by Prohibition. Another time his selfishness almost got his sister killed. When he returned to the house, three days later, Celia was fighting for her life, and Miranda was in the care of a strange woman.  
  
He wondered where his now-suddenly protective mother was, and the woman explained that Mrs. Ferguson was at the house when Celia called her. But she was hit by a car when she ran from the house to get help for her daughter and granddaughter. Madeleine Ferguson's death shattered her husband and when he lost his money in the Stock Market crash of 1929, he killed himself. He had nothing left to live for, or so it seemed to him.  
  
Jason never told his sister that … Celia never even knew their mother was there. And she had enough of a fight on her hands, recovering from her difficult delivery. Jason never told anyone this, either, but it was the letters from Evy O'Connell that helped to save her life. He read the letters from his sister's English friend, and suspected that helped to pull her back. And now, here they were in Egypt, with the O'Connell family. They would take care of Celia and Miranda, far better than he ever could, along with those two brothers. It was time for him to start making plans to go to Hamunaptra. There he would make his money and his fame.

TBC


	3. Questions Answered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ardeth shows his lighter side, Anck shows her gentler side, Evy shows her match-making side, and Rick is caught in the middle.

After O'Connell and Evelyn's guest was placed in her room, Ardeth followed the couple back downstairs, where his younger brother was still playing with Miranda Ferguson. The chieftain held back, allowing O'Connell and his wife to go first … it gave him the opportunity to watch from the safety of the stairway.  He smiled slightly, hearing Miranda’s delighted giggles and seeing Anatol’s equal delighted grin.  He always did enjoy playing with Acacia’s children.  Ardeth gave up wishing things were different many, many years earlier. He enjoyed spending time with his nieces and nephews, when he had the time. He didn't always have that time.  
  
Perhaps that was why he took such pleasure in the antics of Alex O'Connell and Miranda Ferguson. When he was in the village with his sisters and their children, he was often called away by business. Here, he had more freedom. That made Ardeth pause. Freedom.  He never really allowed himself to think of it that way. More like a moment of tranquility, before the next problem arose, whether it was He Who Shall Not Be Named … or something else.  
  
But there was a freedom here, a strange kind of freedom. Among these people, with O'Connell and Evelyn, he did not need to be the Med-jai chieftain. Oh, he wasn’t free of his obligations or his responsibilities to his people, but the expectations here were far different.  It was a strange sort of friendship, especially since it sometimes seemed to all of them that they only saw each other when there was a crisis of some kind. Usually, a crisis of the apocalyptic variety; in which case O'Connell was rarely pleased to see him.  
  
That was not the case this time. A smile tugged at Ardeth's mouth, as he remembered his initial indignation when he realized his younger brother tricked him into taking a holiday. He would have to keep an eye on Anatol. Especially since the younger brother managed to not only get him to Cairo before revealing that he would be free of his responsibilities for two full weeks, he also told the O'Connell family before Ardeth himself knew. The elder brother grinned to himself. Yes, he would most assuredly keep an eye on that boy!  
  
Anatol wasn't the only one he would be watching, either.  Ardeth knew Evelyn far too well by this time, and knew she was plotting something. It wasn't necessary to be the chieftain of the Med-jai tribe to realize what sort of something she was plotting … and that he had something to do with it. Ardeth's instinct was that Evy meant to play matchmaker between himself and her American friend.  
  
He should have been angry. He was so accustomed to the attempts of his people to marry him to one of the beauties of his tribe, or one of the other tribes. Strangely enough, his mother and sisters never attempted such a thing. In fact, neither of his sisters, Acacia nor Aleta, liked any of the women in their tribe as a proposed wife for him. Most of the unmarried women were their friends … but both of his sisters told him rather bluntly that they wanted better for him than a woman who was only interested in the prestige of being married to the chieftain.  
  
Perhaps that was why Evy's matchmaking didn't bother him as much. Evy O'Connell was trying to assess the compatibility between him and her friend. Not for the prestige, but because she loved Ardeth as she loved Jonathan … and Celia as she would have loved a sister. She wanted to see them both happy. However, Ardeth didn't know if he was capable of making any woman happy. It was not easy, being the wife of the Med-jai chieftain.  
  
He knew, among the Europeans, he would have been called a king or a prince, and his wife would thus be a queen among their people. That was the problem with Evy's attempts right there. Celia Ferguson was a Westerner, an outsider. The Med-jai weren't necessarily a closed society; however, they were protective of what was theirs, and Ardeth knew the ramifications of bringing an outsider into the tribe as a bride. He hadn't met a woman who was strong enough to handle such pressure, nor could he imagine subjecting a woman he claimed to love to such an ordeal.  
  
That wasn't to say, of course, that he loved Celia Ferguson. He barely knew her. Although … what he did know of her … it seemed to him that she was strong, a strength she didn't even know she possessed. It took strength to keep moving forward after such a betrayal. And it took strength to raise the daughter left to her by that betrayal with such love and patience. Ardeth realized that Anatol questioned why she allowed her brother to treat her in such a way, but the leader of the Med-jai thought he understood.  
  
When he saw a spark of rage in her eyes, he also saw how quickly it was snuffed out. Oh, the rage was still there … but Celia feared that rage. Feared what she could do if she was angry enough, and Ardeth was raised by a woman very much like the woman whom Evy O'Connell was now. He knew about the sort of damage a woman could do to a man, both physically and mentally. She was afraid of her rage, and of going too far, of hurting her brother.  
  
He respected her for that … and feared for her at the same time. One day, that barrier which protected her younger brother from her fury would be breached. It was just a matter of time. Ardeth knew this, as well as he knew anything in his life. Perhaps it would be a wise idea if he aided her in learning to control that fury, instead of pushing it aside. He knew that if he did that, he would be inviting further intervention from Evy.  But at the same time, he knew his attempts to aid Celia Ferguson could also save many lives, quite possibly his own. It was well worth the risk of Evy's matchmaking, the Ferguson boy's dark looks, and teasing from O'Connell. What concerned him now was his younger brother. Anatol seemed rather taken with her, perhaps seeing only her vulnerability, and not the iron underneath. He would have to be careful.  
  
He thought a few moments earlier that by aiding Celia Ferguson, he could end up saving countless lives, including his own. It would be a long, long time before he found out just how right he was about that.

  
  
TMTMTMTMTM

 

  
Anck-su-namun watched in interest, hearing the thoughts of the Med- jai without truly understanding how she was hearing them. It wasn't important at the moment. What _was_ important was the Med-jai's decision to help her forever friend channel the rage within her soul. Anck-su-namun would have laughed if she hadn't still distrusted the Med-jai. Three thousand years ago, Anck-su-namun taught Ardath to fight … partly to channel her passions until she was chosen, and partly to make sure her forever friend could protect herself.  
  
Most people thought Ardath to be sweet, if a bit insipid. Anck never made that mistake after Prince Rameses met her beloved friend for the very first time.  They were both fifteen years of age, and one of the Med-jai children was racing to meet his father. He was all of five years old, and inclined to be excitable, as children that age were. At that time, Anck had little use for children, but Ardath loved them.  
  
So, when she heard one of the lesser princes growl at the Med-jai child and start to backhand the little boy, Ardath would not stand for it. She shoved the prince away from the boy, and gathered the little one up into her arms, shielding him with her own body. It was a crime punishable by death, but the look in Ardath's eyes was anything but fearful. It was angry and defiant and Anck, for once, was in no position to help her friend.  
  
Just as the lesser prince started to strike Ardath, and the girl tightened her arms protectively around the child, fate intervened. The prince's hand was caught by Rameses himself. He was home from the campaigns, looking dirty and sweaty and bloody. He hadn't yet washed, she learned later, and not particularly amused to find his cousin drawing back his hand to strike a girl of fifteen and a boy of five. The prince growled out, _'What is the meaning of this? Why would you strike two children who have done nothing to you_?' Up until that point, Anck hadn't seen Rameses. She was too focused on Ardath and the boy.  
  
But now, seeing an opportunity to save her friend's life, Anck bowed her head to the prince and replied, _'My friend shoved him, milord, when he attempted to strike the boy_.' A dark brow raised as Rameses turned his head to regard his cousin. Anck didn't know his name at the time, though she would never forget his name in later years. In truth, she had little use for men in general. Really, though, she had little use for people in general, men or women. Ardath and Imhotep were the only two people whom Anck ever loved. And she betrayed them both.  
  
In the years to come, people would speak of Anck's sensuality and grace. She was beautiful in ways that Ardath was not and never would be. But with her courage that day, her unwillingness to stand by as a child was harmed, Anck's friend gained the attention of the prince himself and the respect of the Med-jai. So strange, how the simplest action could change the entire course of a person's life. In the centuries and millennia since, Anck wondered many times what would have happened, if Ardath did not take the actions she did.  
  
It was foolish to wonder, of course. Ardath took the actions she did because that was whom she was, just as Anck took her own course. Imhotep was ever amused by the dichotomy of the two women. He, like so many others, never understood the bond between Anck and Ardath … was, in fact, one of many who saw the foreign concubine only as sweet and weak. It wasn't until the end that he realized just how strong she was.  
  
Just like she was in this lifetime. She was called 'Celia Ferguson' now, and she was an American. Like Ardath, she appeared soft and weak, but she had a core of steel within her, and a temper of fire. Anck only observed her reincarnated friend for a short time, but she quickly came to realize that Celia was taught to submerge that rage. Anger was part of being human. Deny it, and you drive yourself mad.  
  
She heard the Med-jai's voice inside her head. _It is the missing piece of your heart. If you embrace it, if you accept it, you can do anything_. Anck frowned, not understand why she heard that. Not at first at least. Then she caught sight of Mathayus smiling faintly. He obviously knew what was going on, but he was most likely waiting for her to figure it out. He was like Imhotep in that respect.  
  
 _She fears that part of her, and rightly so. But unlike Rick O'Connell and his Med-jai heritage, Celia Ferguson has two pieces of her heart that are missing. First, her memories of being Lady Ardath, concubine to Prince Rameses; and second, the acceptance which will allow her to use that rage wisely within herself. The person who can aid her in the resolution of the second task is the Med-jai, Ardeth Bey_ , Mathayus said after a moment.  
  
Again, Anck's heart leapt at the similarity between the name of the Med-jai and the name of her forever friend. She looked at him. If he was not Med-jai, she would have found him very pleasing to look at. He was very tall, about as tall as O'Connell, with black hair reaching just past his shoulders. But as ever, the tattoos on his face kept her from going too much further with her perusal of his person. The hatred she felt for the Med-jai of her time lingered, and was now directed at the young man now considering how he could best help her sister. She didn't even realize that she noted Ardeth Bey's youth.  
  
 _You wonder if there is a link between your sister and this man. There is. But now is not the time for you to know that connection. You must look past those tattoos, Anck-su-namun. He is your sister's best hope in the days and weeks ahead. Her brother seeks to awaken a sleeping evil. The Med-jai, in their grief and guilt, carried out the hom-dai, and thus sentenced their own children to slavery. But there is another evil, an older evil, which is far more deadly than Imhotep … or you … could ever hope to be_ , Mathayus said.  
  
Anck looked at her companion, taking his words about Ardath-reborn’s younger brother. Truly, Jason Ferguson was a petty, whining little fool. But it didn't appear to her that he was truly malicious, or, for that matter, as selfish as Anck knew herself to be. She didn't think it was likely he would ever do the things she did. Mathayus continued, _I should have said, this evil seeks Jason Ferguson to raise him. The boy will have no choice. This is his destiny, just as it is the destiny of Ardeth Bey to face this evil_.  
  
For some reason, Anck didn't like the sound of that. Why, she didn't know. He was Med-jai. He caused her more headaches and heartaches than anyone had since Seti. And yet, she couldn't deny that he sought to protect that which was his. He was trying to protect his people, his family, his world … and her sister. _Just as_ , an insidious little whisper told her, _you have done, Anck-su-namun. Perhaps if you left him alone, left his people alone … he would not have been forced to stand against you_.  
  
She wasn't ready to hear that, not yet. Not after all these millennia. Not after hearing the desperation in Imhotep's voice as she ran from him. Mathayus said quietly, _So. You judge the Med-jai for his attempts to protect what is his, because you failed your lover? You are not as honest as I thought_. Anck glared at the one-time Scorpion King, who just ignored the anger in her eyes, and continued, _You blame Ardeth Bey for thwarting your plans, when your plans would have destroyed everyone he ever loved. Would have destroyed your forever friend_.  
  
 _What choice did I have! If destroying the world was the only way Imhotep and I could love in peace, then so be it_! she snarled. She heard the last part of his sentence, and the guilt almost drove her to her knees. If Ardeth Bey hadn't challenged them ... Imhotep regarded O'Connell as a mere nuisance, as her information told her that he wouldn't have gotten involved if they left his family alone … then she would have once more killed her friend.  
  
 _What … kind … of … love … is … that_? Mathayus hissed. Anck looked away. She wanted to remind him of his choice to sell his soul to Anubis for his life and the ability to conquer his enemies. She wanted to remind him of the blood he had shed. But she couldn't. Because reminding him of what he did, was no balm for what her own misdeeds. She loved Ardath so much, and yet she took her friend's life.  
  
The scene changed with a sweep of her companion's hand, and she saw her friend once more dying as she sought to protect her child from the Anubis Warriors who swept over the world after Imhotep killed the Scorpion King. She saw little Miranda dying. And tears poured down her face. This would have been the fate of so many, if she had her way. If Ardeth Bey never challenged them, or if he died before he could help the O'Connells rescue their son. O'Connell was nothing more than an annoyance … Ardeth Bey was the true threat.  
  
The scene changed once more, returning to Ardeth Bey looking pensive as he considered what he should do to help Celia. Mathayus said quietly, _You must remember what you saw, Anck-su-namun. Both Ardeth Bey and Rick O'Connell are Med-jai. They will both be needed, though it's Ardeth's destiny to face your ancient enemy. And they will need help, because this is something two men cannot do alone. The question becomes, do you have the strength of your forever friend_? And with those words, the picture changed once more.

 

  
  
TMTMTMTMTMTM  
  


 

_The sound of laughter echoed through her dreams, and in her mind's eye, she could see two young girls chasing each other around the columns of the palace, playing tag with each other and the beams of sunlight. They were no more than fifteen years old … no longer children, but not truly adults either. The less graceful of the two tripped on something, and went tumbling down the steps_.  
  
 _Her darker, more exotic looking companion stopped what she was doing, and ran down the stairs after her friend. It wasn't a long fall, and the stairs weren't particularly steep, but neither fact took away from the fear on the second girl's face. The first girl was already shaking off the effects of her fall, but the dark girl pushed her down, saying in a language long dead, **'No, Ardath, stay still … you might have been hurt in the fall**_!'  
  
 _Her friend smiled and replied, **'I am fine, Anck! I fell but a short distance**.' She started to get up, but her ankle gave way. The girl named 'Anck' grabbed her by the waist and gently eased her back to the ground, as the girl named 'Ardath' bit down on her lower lip. She whispered, **'Perhaps I spoke too soon, but my ankle is all that pains me. Please, dear friend, do not worry for me. If anyone is punished, it will be me, for being so clumsy**_.'  
  
 _Anck's dark eyes flashed with rage as she replied, **'Neither of us shall be punished. Come! I will take you to Imhotep, and he can help you. Remember, you are to go to the bed of Rameses tonight, my friend, and if you please him, you will have nothing more to fear**.' She kept a careful arm around her friend's waist, helping her stand. She continued, **'I made a promise, Ardath, and I will keep it. No one will ever hurt you again**.' Nothing more was said for several moments, as Anck helped her friend toward the chambers where they would find Imhotep.  
_  
 _They were friends for many years, two children who forged an alliance in an atmosphere of distrust. Anck could not say, exactly, what led her to take the small, pale hand of the little house slave into her own protectively more than five years earlier. She only knew that when Ardath's fingers closed around her own … .well, Anck was not accustomed to feeling such protectiveness, such warmth, toward another. Much less someone who could take away her security_.  
  
 _But in that strange way, Ardath became her security. They took care of each other. Anck was harder, more cynical … darker, clichéd as that might be, and in reference to her mind and her heart, rather than the fact that her complexion was darker than that of her friend. It would have been a simplification to call them light and dark, but the desire was often there. But Anck had her soft side, and his name was Imhotep, for even as she warmed the bed of the Pharaoh Seti I, she was falling in love with the handsome high priest_.  
  
 _Ardath was her other soft side. And just as Anck had her soft side, brought out by Imhotep and her forever friend, Ardath was steel encased in velvet. Anck saw that steel many a time. She was not outwardly defiant, but she did what she thought was right, a determination which resulted in many beatings for her when she stood up for someone smaller and weaker than herself. Anck smiled grimly, remembering sneaking away from her ailing friend's bedside to deal with whoever harmed Ardath. Many drunken soldiers who dared to strike her friend found themselves regretting it in the moments before their own deaths_.  
  
 _They found Imhotep with Rameses, and Anck could hear Ardath quietly cursing herself for being a fool. But to Anck's relief, only concern lit the dark eyes of the prince. He strode over to the two young concubines and swung Ardath up into his arms. Anck grinned to herself, pleased that her friend was too startled by the prince's action to protest. Imhotep asked, **'What happened, Anck-su-namun, that she was hurt in this way**?' Anck almost laughed at the glare Ardath directed toward the high priest_.  
  
 _It was just too bad that he never saw the ire in that look. Anck knew Imhotep thought her friend to be soft and weak, but as Rameses gently settled her on a cot, the concubine also realized that Rameses saw the steel underneath the velvet. There was only concern as he sat next to her, his hand resting at her waist … concern, not condescension. He asked very softly, **'What occurred, my Ardath**?'  My Ardath_????  
  
 _Anck raised her eyebrows at the endearment, but held her tongue as her friend quietly explained everything which had happened. Rameses frowned, then gently kissed the top of her head, saying softly, **'I am pleased you were not hurt worse. And do not call yourself foolish. Nefertiri has lost her footing on those stairs many times herself. Once Imhotep has finished with your ankle, I will take you to my chambers, so you can rest**._ '  
  
 _Rest? Was that all he had in mind for her friend? Anck looked at the prince, not entirely sure if she could trust him. He was, after all, the son of Seti, and the pharaoh wasn't the kindest man. Rameses himself could demonstrate an ugly temper on occasion, but Anck admitted that he only demonstrated compassion toward her sister, compassion and concern. As bratty as Nefertiri was, Anck was surprised to learn that Rameses was capable of compassion_.  
  
 _And yet, here he was … sitting at the side of her friend, his hands gripping her friend's shoulders as Imhotep first examined, then wrapped her ankle. It was merely twisted, not broken. Ardath kept silent through the examination, with only the lines in her face to testify to the pain Anck knew she was experiencing. But as Imhotep pronounced his findings, Ardath glared at her and growled, **'I told you it was nothing, Anck**!' The other girl only laughed_.  
  
 _Imhotep finished wrapping her ankle, not even touching her flesh, particularly in the presence of the man who chose Ardath as his concubine. Once he was finished, Rameses once more swung the foreign girl into his arms and rose to his feet. Anck followed suit, inclining her head before them both. Impulsively, she took her friend's hand as Rameses carried her from the room, and Ardath responded with a gentle squeeze_.  
  
 _In those days, before Seti chose Anck as his next queen, Anck did not wear the body paint marking her as his. Instead, she dressed as Ardath did, and there was no reason for Imhotep to avoid touching her. Which he did now, putting his large, warm hands on her shoulders. Anck covered his hands with her own, whispering, **'She was very brave, did you see? She never even made a sound**.' Imhotep didn't answer_ _and Anck-su-namun glared at the man she was quickly growing to love. Men could be such fools, even Imhotep! Why did he not see that other people drew their strength from Ardath? Anck herself did … she saw others do the same. Why were men such fools? Why did they never understand that sometimes, strength was hidden? That was, Anck realized now, the reason why Ardath always seemed apart from the other concubines_.

_She wasted little of her strength on the games and the backstabbing. She remained honest and true to herself, and that gave her the strength she needed. The strength she gave to Anck. And when Ardath's own strength ran low, Anck did whatever her forever friend needed from her. Anck would do anything for Ardath. Nothing was too terrible to imagine … nothing except losing her friend_.  
  
 _By this time, Anck recognized that Ardath was the better part of her. Which was not to say her friend was weak … but she was raised with love by the Hebrew slaves who found her in that field, so long ago. Anck never knew love, until she found her forever friend, until that small, pale foreign girl slipped her fingers around Anck's. She had no idea how to react to the idea of losing Ardath. No idea, except rage_.  
  
 _At last, Imhotep said dismissively, **'She had a twisted ankle, nothing serious. She has never been wounded in battle … there is no valor, in holding back a scream from a twisted ankle**.' Anck rounded on the high priest, her dark eyes wide with fury. A twisted ankle? No, perhaps he was right, perhaps a twisted ankle was not as serious as a battle wound, but that meant nothing. Women often endured grievous pain away from the battlefield. Anck could still remember hearing the anguished cries of her mother during childbirth. She remembered many things. And, she reminded herself that it was she who nursed Ardath during her illnesses and after her beatings. Imhotep didn't know Ardath as she did_.  
  
 _She tried to remember that, but it wasn't always possible. It was times as these that she saw not the man who treated her with such kindness, but just the high priest. She said now, **'Yes, priest, but I have known men to howl for lesser reasons**.' Usually when she was busy killing them for harming Ardath, but she said none of this to Imhotep. It was not something important for him to know. Anck was cunning, as well as cold when she killed. Each time, she made it look like self-defense. A lifetime on the streets of Thebes taught her well_.  
  
 _And in turn, she was now teaching Ardath the same lessons she learned, little by little, gauging what were her friend's strengths and weaknesses. One surprising thing was the strength in Ardath's upper body, particularly in her arms. Anck didn't question her friend after the first time she commented on it, because of the pain she saw in Ardath's eyes. Perhaps those six years between the time she was found by the slaves and the first time the two girls met weren't as idyllic as Anck originally thought_.  
  
 _That was of no importance now. She was expected to join the other concubines, except Ardath. It would not do for her to be late. She gave the high priest a curt nod and sashayed from the room, feeling his eyes on her as she left. Because she was still angry with him, she enjoyed the feeling of power it gave her. Desire was power. And that power would give her the means to protect herself and those she loved. No matter what the price_.

 

  
TMTMTMTMTMTM

 

  
  
Celia awoke from her dream, rattled. It wasn't an unpleasant dream, simply … strange. In the first place, she often didn't remember her dreams, and in the second ... if she did remember those dreams, they were mere fragments of reality. This dream played more like a memory ... or a movie. However, it wasn't a memory. It couldn't be, because she knew the thoughts and emotions of both girls.  
  
As if that wasn't bad enough, she was disoriented when she looked around ... where was she? Oh. Celia sighed, allowing her head to drop back onto the pillow. She was in Cairo, visiting Rick and Evy O'Connell. You'd think after the journey she just completed, she would remember that. Stupid, stupid girl. Things returned to her now. Her argument with Jason, lugging the luggage behind her while watching over Miranda ... and the meeting with Ardeth Bey. Yes, she remembered everything now.  
  
What she didn't remember was how exactly she got here. Not here, in this house ... that she remembered. However, the last thing she did remember was resting her head on her forearms in Evy's kitchen while her friend was preparing lunch. Lunch. Food. She hadn't eaten in what seemed like forever, and she made her way down the stairs. No one was paying attention, so she slipped into the kitchen.  
  
“Oh, good, you're awake ... do you feel better?” Evy asked, puttering around the kitchen. Celia nodded, and Evy continued, “Good, I'm glad to hear it. In case you're wondering, I had Rick and Ardeth carry you upstairs. I was concerned they might wake you, with the way they were behaving ... like a pair of naughty little boys, they were.” Celia just raised her eyebrows at that. Somehow, she had a hard time seeing Ardeth Bey behaving like a naughty little boy.  
  
And then she found herself thinking, much to her shock, _So, he carried me upstairs, and I wasn't awake enough to enjoy it. . .CECELIA_! She couldn't believe she just thought that! True enough, she wasn't a lady, and hadn't been for quite some time, but she did like to maintain some degree of decorum. Struggling to recover that degree of decorum, Celia asked, 'Is there anything I can do to help?'  
  
“Oh, no, no, I'm almost finished. . .go sit down, I can tell that you're still exhausted,” Evy replied, shooing her back into the sitting room, where Rick O'Connell and Ardeth Bey were discussing something in low voices. From their expressions, it seemed rather serious. Her daughter was still being entertained by Anatol Bey. Miranda seemed quite fascinated by the tattoos adorning Anatol's cheeks, forehead, and hands.  With one last look at Evy, who returned her attention to her work, Celia joined the others.  
  
“MOMMY! You're awake, we don't gotta be quiet now!” Miranda shrieked with her normal exuberance, the child catapulting from Anatol's side to fling herself into Celia's arms. The American woman dropped to one knee without even thinking about it, catching the four year old in an equally fierce hug. Celia barely managed to keep back her chokes and gasps as her daughter threatened to hug the very life out of her. She should be used to this by now.  She really, really should have been used to this by now.  A quick glance over Miranda's head told her that Anatol was struggling against a smile.  
  
She found out the reason why a moment later, when Anatol raised his eyes and called, “Ardeth, does that look familiar?” The dark eyes of the Med-jai chieftain shifted from Rick O'Connell to Celia and Miranda, and a faint smile appeared. Anatol continued, his own eyes dancing with laughter, “Our nephew … the son of our sister Acacia … does that, Miss Ferguson, every time Ardeth comes back after one of his patrols. One would think that he had not seen Ardeth for several years, instead of just a few weeks.”  
  
“Anatol, to a child that age, a few weeks _does_ seem like years,” Evy observed, joining them in the sitting room. Evidently, she knew how old this nephew was … or maybe she was assuming that the child was the same age as Miranda. The Englishwoman sat down on the arm of her husband's chair, and rested her hand on Rick's shoulder. His hand immediately covered her own, sending a pang directly into Celia's heart. It was easy to ignore her own loneliness when she wasn't confronted by a loving couple, which Rick and Evy obviously were.  
  
She saw that same reality when she looked at Ardeth Bey. Strange, she wouldn't have expected a man as breath-taking as he was to be lonely. Perhaps that was a mistake, but that was the expectation, that a very handsome man could have any woman he wanted.  But she could tell from his expression that he was experiencing the same pangs as she. At least, until a stoic mask slipped into place, and the sadness was gone. However, the kinship established within those few seconds remained, long after the sadness disappeared.  
  
Then Miranda was chattering away, drawing her mother's attention back to her, along with a patient smile. Miranda, not surprisingly, was absolutely entranced by both Anatol and Ardeth Bey. They were, to the little girl, extremely tall, quite exotic, and incomparably handsome. And though Miranda was a little girl, she already knew beauty when she saw it. Both brothers were beautiful, strange as it was to apply such a word to men. Carstairs was not what she considered 'beautiful.'  Come to think of it, he wasn't even handsome. He had pleasing features, but cold eyes. That should have warned her about his true nature, and Celia cursed herself again for not seeing through him.  Stupid little fool.  
  
Miranda had no fear of these men, despite her initial reaction when they met.  And that was more a result of Ardeth’s tattoos and rather forbidding mien than anything else.  Over all, when she was comfortable in a situation, she was a fearless child, which always shocked Celia ... and worried her, too, on occasion. How a coward such as herself managed to not only birth, but raise such a fearless little girl, took her breath away. Where did Miranda learn her courage? Surely not from her mother ... not from her uncle, either, and Carstairs was long dead ... damn his soul to the Underworld. Where did she learn to be so brave?  
  
“And Ardeth says that his mother and sisters know how to fight, 'cause they might have to defend the village when Ardeth and the other men are away, and says that girls can fight too! Anatol thinks that girls are scarier than boys sometimes,” Miranda rattled on as Celia settled on the bottom stair, her child in her lap. She didn't miss Anatol's chagrin or his older brother's amusement.  It seemed Anatol hadn’t realized that the little girl would repeat just about everything and anything she heard.  Miranda took a deep breath, raised her face to look up at Celia, then asked perfectly seriously, “Mommy, how old do I gotta be 'fore I can marry Ardeth?”  
  
Ardeth almost spit out whatever he was drinking, then doubled over in his chair, coughing helplessly. Rick reached over and pounded on his back, while Anatol sank deeper into his own seat, laughing helplessly. She could almost see the tears streaming down the young warrior's face. Evy covered her mouth with her hand, but Celia could see her friend's eyes dancing with suppressed laughter.  
  
“Ew! Then you'd be kissing all the time, like my mum and dad do!”  Alex blurted out. Rick grabbed a hold of Ardeth, who looked about ready to fall out of his chair. The boy's remark set everyone to laughing again, everyone except for Miranda, who looked at her mother in bewilderment, and Celia, who was struggling to keep from laughing herself. She didn't want to hurt her daughter's feelings.  
  
“Alex, you say that like it's a bad thing,” Celia replied around the lump she had in her throat from swallowing her laughter. She turned her attention back to her daughter and replied, “You know, honey, Ardeth may already be married, and we don't know if he's allowed to have more than one wife.”  That was something that she should have considered before … she’d been making assumptions.  She glanced up to see Ardeth shaking his head. Whether that meant he was only allowed to have one wife, or wasn't married, Celia wasn't sure yet.  
  
Anatol provided the answer, by replying, “We are only permitted one wife ... and Ardeth has not yet taken his.”  A hand swiped the back of Anatol's head from the general direction of his older brother, but that didn't prevent the young man from continuing with a mischievous grin, “And you must be at least sixteen years old in order to wed, little one. By that time, I fear my brother will be ... too old.”  
  
Celia ducked her head as she saw Rick remove his hand from Ardeth's shoulder, realizing what was about to come next. She was right. Ardeth tackled his younger brother, a smile of unholy glee decorating his handsome face. Anatol yelped, struggling under the older and taller brother, and it took a moment for Celia to realize what Ardeth was doing. She leaned back against the stairs, giving way to her laughter. She swiveled Miranda on her lap, so her daughter could witness this as well.  
  
“Old, is it? I will show you 'old,' little brother, and you will pray you actually live that long!” Ardeth growled. Anatol squeaked, wriggling around on the floor, trying desperately to get away from his brother's waggling fingers. He wasn't succeeding particularly well, and it was all Celia could do to just keep her arms around her daughter as she laughed helplessly. A quick glance told her that Evy was almost on her knees from laughing so hard, while Rick was just staring at Ardeth in shock. Alex was leaning against his mother, tears of laughter rolling down his cheeks.  
  
Anatol blurted out something in Arabic, and Ardeth continued, keeping up the attack, “What was that, little brother? I did not understand you … perhaps you should speak up, or stop laughing so you can be understood!” A bright grin flashed across his face, taking at least ten years off his age, and Celia realized for the first time that he was only a few years older than she was. According to Evy, Ardeth was no more than thirty-two or thirty-three, and until now, that was an understanding in her brain, but not in her heart.  
  
That was dangerous ground ... too many similarities between her and Ardeth Bey. Or rather, she was now noticing them. The last time she did that. . . Celia's arms tightened around Miranda and forced herself to concentrate on the now. Ignore the past and her brother's pouting. It wasn't as hard as she might have imagined. For the first time in what seemed like ages, she was happy. Cecelia Anne Ferguson was a number of things, but she wasn't a complete fool. She would take this time of joy and enjoy it. For as long as it lasted.

  
  
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Anatol's holiday with his brother was turning into something entirely unexpected. He would have never imagined that his elder brother, the quiet and serious chieftain of the Med-jai people, still had enough of the small child within him to tackle Anatol to the ground and tickle him, as if they were still thirteen and five. Although, at that time, Anatol and Andreas often double-teamed Ardeth. His brother released him, stopping his assault, and Anatol pulled back to look at his brother, both of them breathing hard and laughing.  
  
Andreas would have enjoyed the tussle ... would have enjoyed seeing Ardeth's bright, mischievous grin, and the long black hair almost covering his eyes. Strange as it sounded, Andreas was never as serious as Ardeth. Looking back now, Anatol could remember Andreas laughing far more frequently than their brother, even in the four years after their father's death and before his own. Andreas, though, was larger than life.  He was a big man, not just taller than Ardeth, but wider as well. And he laughed. As often as he could, and sometimes when others thought he shouldn't. But he was loved. He hadn't yet taken a wife at the time of his death ... he was too young, he told their mother. He was twenty-two years old at the time. Too young to marry, and too young to die.  
  
Ardeth, on the other hand, was always quiet and serious. To use a word used by Evy when speaking of his brother, he was shy with girls. He was always more comfortable in training than outside, when he had to interact with the young ladies of their village. Anatol knew how the maidens of their tribe saw Ardeth, from the maidens themselves and from their two sisters. He became all the more attractive after Andreas died.  
  
But Ardeth pulled back from other people as he recovered in those dark times, allowing his new army, and his family, to take first position in his heart. It was, Anatol discovered, the best way Ardeth had to protect himself. The seventeen year old was under an enormous amount of pressure, as the new Med-jai king. It would have been hard enough, to simply be the new Commander of their particular tribe, but the chieftain ... the king?  
  
An impossible task, said many. They didn't know his brother. Ardeth was stubborn, even before his birth. Anatol hadn't understood, the first time his mother said that. Aleta, the quieter, more serene sister ... the sister most like Ardeth ... took Anatol aside and explained that Ardeth almost died at birth. Their parents believed for some time afterward that Ardeth would die before he reached his first birthday.  
  
He should have died, as he was born before his time. He should have died several times between his birth and his seventeenth year. He didn't. The Bey family was stubborn by nature, by blood, and Ardeth was the most stubborn of a stubborn family. Anatol never doubted that his brother would prevail. Part of it was the hero worship of a nine year old boy for his brother, part of it was simply knowing Ardeth.  
  
It took time, but Ardeth ended up winning the battles within their tribe, within their nation. Things came to a head after the Creature rose the first time. For nine years, Ardeth had sought to bring the Med-jai into the twentieth century. It took the beating at the hands of the Americans ... truly, it was more of a draw, but it was a terrible blow to the collective ego of the Med-jai. Anatol was eighteen at the time, and at his mother's request, he disobeyed his brother. Ardeth wanted him to, as the Americans said, stay put while he headed to Cairo.  
  
Actually, he disobeyed only when he saw wall of sand with the Creature’s face and the plane crash. Anatol somehow knew that his brother was on that plane ... actually, he found out later that Ardeth was strapped _to_ the plane. Anatol didn't ask any more questions after that. He didn't think he wanted to know. The plane was flying toward Hamunaptra. The youngster was immediately informed that he was to go help his brother, because Altair Bey would not bury another son ... and she certainly would not lose Ardeth to the Creature.  
  
Anatol left the village as soon as his mother spoke, vaulting onto a horse. He hadn't gone but a mile, when he noticed one of the village elders. One of the men most opposed to the modernization of the Med-jai ... until his son was cut down in the initial skirmish with the Americans. It was strange to Anatol. He grew up fearing Aric ... and now, he only saw a beaten, tired old man. Aric tried to blame Ardeth for the death of his son, but how could he, when his own complacency and pride prevented the young king from doing what was needed?  
  
No, Aric would atone for his arrogance, which cost the lives of so many Med-jai. He would help Anatol find his brother, and rescue him, if need be. Besides, Anatol happened to know that until Ardeth became chieftain, Aric was courting Altair. The fiery Greek matriarch of the Med- jai quickly turned against him, a mother's protectiveness coming to the fore. Many men underestimated Altair's love for her children, and all of them regretted it.  
  
It was Anatol and Aric who pulled the unconscious chieftain from the forbidden city. The sound of the explosion attracted their attention, and for several terrifying moments, Anatol thought he would now be the chieftain. He, the youngest. That gave him renewed strength to get to his brother. It took almost ten minutes to dig their way to Ardeth, another two minutes to toss the rotting corpses away from his brother, and just one to feel the weak pulse under his fingers. It was the longest thirteen minutes of Anatol's young life.  
  
Seven years later, he looked at his brother, still gasping for breath. Ardeth's head rested against the chair, his eyes were closed, but there was the faintest hint of a smile on his face, a real smile. Anatol said in Greek, “I have missed you, my brother.” Ardeth opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at Anatol with a quizzical expression, and the younger brother continued, “And we have all missed your smile. It is good to know, that my brother is still in there.”  
  
Ardeth's smile widened, ever so slightly, and he replied in the same language, “I never left, little brother. I have always been here. I sometimes do forget, though.” Anatol nodded, mentally repeating his vow to take care of his brother. For some reason, he forgot how close they came to losing Ardeth at Hamunaptra. They almost lost him at Ahm Shere, and Anatol knew his brother still had nightmares of that place. They all did, some more than others.  Ardeth took a deep breath, and then asked, “What brought this on, little brother?”  
  
“I was remembering digging you out of Hamunaptra, the first time the Creature arose … and Andreas. You frightened me badly, Ardeth. I was afraid I would lose my brother, afraid I would be chieftain,” Anatol replied with the customary honesty of his family. One thing Altair and Suleiman taught all five children was to be honest. Honest with their opinions, honest with others ... and that loving your brothers and sisters was not a weakness, but a strength.  
  
Because he was the youngest, and had none of the pressures faced by his older brother, Anatol was far better at expressing himself. He loved his brother very much, and never hesitated to show it. Ardeth's dark eyes softened, but before he could respond in any way, Evy O'Connell said in English, drawing their attention with a gentle cough, “Much as I appreciate finally hearing how Ardeth escaped the explosion, I should remind you that some of us do speak Greek, and we don’t need to know everything.”   
  
Much to Anatol's astonishment, his brother actually blushed, and Rick O'Connell asked, “They said how Ardeth escaped?” The awkwardness of the moment passed as Rick grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him back into his seat, muttering under his breath all the while. Anatol hid a smile as his brother rolled his eyes yet again. Rick added, in a somewhat louder voice, “You never did answer my question: who are you and what have you done with Ardeth Bey?”  
  
“I am whom I have always been, O'Connell, if you were paying attention,” Ardeth retorted. Evy covered her mouth with her hand again, and Ardeth continued, “And in answer to your question, my then-eighteen year old brother disobeyed a request I made of him. Although, in his defense, I should add that he disobeyed me at our mother's request. He came after us, after the plane crashed, with the father of a man who died at Hamunaptra. When I awoke, I was lying on the sand where they placed me after digging me out of the cave-in.”  
  
“Very wise young man,” Evy said, nodding serenely, “I would obey your mother as well.” Anatol simply smiled at her, thinking about how much she reminded him of his sister Aleta. Evy continued, “And now that the boys have had their fun, it's dinner time. Alex, would you like to escort Miranda into dinner ... and Ardeth? Please escort Celia?” Anatol almost fell over laughing, both at the woman’s attempt to be nonchalant and at his brother’s answering expression. He should speak with Evy about her matchmaking. She was far too obvious!

 

  
  
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As they headed into dinner, Rick O'Connell resolved to have a little talk with his wife. He didn't know what scared him more. The idea of her going off on another treasure hunt ... e.g., Hamunaptra or Ahm Shere .... or the way she was tempting fate with her matchmaking. He knew she was trying to help ... trying to ease the loneliness, or supposed loneliness, of two people whom she loved. But really ... Ardeth was a big boy, he could take care of himself. Look at all the times he saved Rick's family, after all.  
  
And Celia was thirty years old, hardly a young girl. Rick wasn't even sure she was right for Ardeth, Evy's matchmaking aside. She was shy ... hell, she let her brother walk all over her ... on the other hand, she sure nailed Ardeth about asking for help. Still, it wasn't their concern. After all, how would Evy feel if Celia _did_ fall in love with Ardeth, and he didn't return her feelings? No, he would have a talk with Evy, before any hearts got broken.  
  
There was no time, however, because at Evy's suggestion, Ardeth gravely offered his arm to Celia, which she accepted with a smile. Rick grudgingly admitted that Celia went into this with her eyes open. She didn't have a glazed look in her eyes, the one which read _'ooh, a handsome man likes me_.' And Rick knew women thought Ardeth to be very, very attractive. He wasn't about to share his opinion on that. . .  
  
Still, Rick couldn't quite ignore the little devil which gloated at the way Jason Ferguson was glowering at his sister and Ardeth. He had no doubt that his old friend could handle the kid. Ardeth learned to fight when he was Miranda's age. Rick would be very surprised if the Ferguson brat could throw a punch properly. He didn't even have to fight their old buddy Imhotep, just be able to hold his own in an alley fight.  
  
He knew from Evy that the brother and sister came from money. But even as he dismissed his wife's feeling that Celia and Ardeth might be good for each other, Rick couldn't deny that the older sister seemed to have a better grip on the world. She came from money, but she provided for herself since she was eighteen (when she was disowned by her parents, something that infuriated Rick, even as it provided the seeds for respect). She was thirty now ... that gave her a helluva lot of experience in the real world.  
  
That wasn't even taking into account her experience with Miranda's father. It wouldn't have surprised Rick at all to learn that his own reaction mirrored that of Anatol Bey. It wouldn't have surprised him, either, to discover that Celia blamed herself for not seeing the man for what he was. Rick didn't know much about the jackass … at least, no specific details … but it was his experience that men like that worked real hard at making sure people didn't see their true colors.  For sure, though, Celia would never make that mistake again.  
  
And then there was Ardeth, who was the exact opposite of Miranda’s birth father. Okay, so maybe Evy had a few points in her favor over her little matchmaking scheme.  But that didn't mean she should be matchmaking for the pair. For one thing, just because Ardeth was the exact opposite of the man who almost destroyed her life, didn't mean he was what Celia needed. And for another, if Rick did think about such things (which he didn't), he wouldn't be so sure that Celia was what Ardeth needed.  
  
But again, the Med-jai was a grown man. He knew what he needed and wanted. Didn't he? It was still none of Rick's business, especially now that he was questioning just how well he knew Ardeth. He had known the Med- jai for seven years. Usually when the world was about to end, because of this curse or that prophecy. Like the second time they met, only months after they put Imhotep in his grave the first time. He and Evy were not yet married, and it was before they returned to England, before Alex came to them.  
  
It was during that second meeting that Rick and Evy learned a little more about the man who first tried to kill them, and who only a short time later would have sacrificed his own life to save them. Rick was shocked to learn that Ardeth was his own age (well, all right, only a few years younger), only twenty-six at the time of the first rising. Even more shocking, their new friend was only seventeen when he became the chieftain of the Med-jai. For some reason, he thought Ardeth was older than that ... much older.  
  
Through the years, he saw the proud, stubborn chieftain slowly relax ... though he never saw Ardeth as relaxed as he was just a few minutes ago. He dimly heard his friend laughing softly at Jonathan and Izzy's antics on the dirigible. But until he saw it, Rick would have never believed that Ardeth Bey was even capable of tackling his younger brother to the floor and tickling him, as if they were both Alex's age.  
  
Rick's thoughts were interrupted as Celia asked thoughtfully, “You know, Evy, I just realized you've never explained how you came to meet Mr. Bey. Something was said a few minutes ago, about an explosion.” Rick almost coughed on his soup, which, fortunately, was ignored. Celia had another question in mind, as she continued, “Ummm ... you know, I never asked. I'm so sorry ... what's your title ... how should I address you?” She switched her attention from Evy to Ardeth as she spoke. Rick looked at his friend, wondering how Ardeth would handle this.  
  
“You may call me 'Ardeth.' You are Evy's friend ... if she trusts you, then I am willing to do so as well. We have no titles among our people,” was the reply. Rick almost rolled his eyes, until Evy kicked him under the table. Trust Ardeth to make things more complicated than they had to be. On the other hand, Ardeth had a point. He never heard the Med- jai refer to him as anything other than 'our chief' or something similar, if not by name. Never 'your Majesty,' but that wasn't the Med-jai way of doing things.  
  
However, Celia simply inclined her head in acceptance and said almost as formally, “I thank you for your trust. Evy tells me that you don't give it easily ... I will do my best to be worthy of it.”  Whoa, where did that come from? Celia continued, “My father's people were Scottish, Ardeth, and among the Highlanders of Scotland in particular, the head of each clan was called the laird. Or, in the case of our family, 'the Ferguson,' when speaking of him.”

“Customs interest you, Miss Ferguson?” Ardeth asked politely, and Celia bobbed her head. Jason Ferguson snorted in disgust, and Rick watched with amusement as Ardeth turned his patented 'Ardeth Bey Glare of Doom' on the younger American. Jason swallowed hard, dropping his eyes until he was staring fixedly into his own soup. Ardeth continued, returning his attention to the sister, “What manner of customs interests you?”  
  
“Firstly, if I'm to call you 'Ardeth,' then it's only fair that you call me 'Celia,' or even 'Cecelia.' That's my name after all,” the other American answered.  Rick grinned. Fair enough. Ardeth nodded his agreement, and Celia continued, “And in answer to your question, all customs interest me: customs of marriage, customs of death. Burial, I should say. That's what got me interested in Egypt in the first place, learning about funerary customs among your ancestors. Well, at least your father's side of the family!”  
  
“And these customs do not disgust you?” Ardeth asked with interest. Rick looked at his friend. Ardeth was giving nothing away, none of the secrets he held. But Rick knew he was thinking about them, since they were related to what they were discussing. Celia shook her head vehemently, and Ardeth continued, “Why not?” Actually, Rick wanted to know the answer to that as well.  
  
“Well, once it got my attention, I started studying up. Not just ancient Egypt, but other cultures as well. And I know it's silly to say, that it's only common sense, but every burial rite I've ever come across is some sort of preparation for the life after this one ... if you believe such a thing exists. If you take it in that context, and the time and place of these people, things make perfect sense,” she replied.  
  
“I still say what you told me about that one punishment is just plain sick. I mean, what could possibly be worth inflicting a living death on someone ... what was that called, sis?” Jason asked. Rick felt his blood run cold. Not just at the mention of the hom-dai, but the casual way the boy mentioned it. He looked over at Ardeth, who was staring back at him, his dark eyes filled with concern, the same concern Rick was now feeling. He remembered what he was thinking earlier, about Jason going to Hamunaptra, and quietly cursed himself for it. Now, he desperately hoped the boy didn't do anything of the sort.  
  
“The hom-dai, Jason. And you're right, reading about that was awful. Can you imagine- never mind, we're at the supper table,” Celia said, shaking her head. It wasn't just that, but the fact there were little ears listening as well, Rick was sure. Celia continued with a pointed look at her brother, “In any event, since we haven't seen any plagues sweep over the earth, like the kind unleashed by Moses, it seems likely any victims of the hom-dai have never been awakened.”  
  
Rick almost choked on what he was eating, and Celia looked at him with a puzzled frown. He responded with what he hoped was a reassuring smile ... until Jason retorted impatiently, “Oh, don't tell me you believe in that, sis? C'mon, I thought you were smarter than that!”  This time, Rick didn't miss the look of sheer fury that blazed from Celia's dark eyes. Whoa. Maybe he underestimated her, after all.  
  
Her voice was cold as she retorted, “And why shouldn't I? After all, you believe in the Ten Plagues and in the parting of the Red Sea. Why shouldn't I respect the possibility that the hom-dai is real?” Again, Rick's eyes sought and found Ardeth's. The Med-jai looked as worried as Rick himself felt ... and not because of the brewing family argument. Jason began sputtering, and Celia added, “I will not discuss this further with you, Jason. This is being very rude to our hosts, and Grandmother would be very disappointed.”  
  
All the color drained from the boy's face at that remark, as it hit its target. Well, well.  It looked like Celia had claws after all. She turned her attention to Evy, continuing in a low voice, “My apologies, Evy, I shouldn't have allowed this to get out of control.” Out of control? No punches were thrown, and she silenced her brother ... by Rick's figures, they were ahead of the game.  
  
One of these days, he would know better than to think like that.

 

TBC 


End file.
